


A Haven for Real

by Hard_boiled_candy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Domestic Castiel/Dean Winchester, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, Fluff and Humor, Gabriel is Not Okay (Supernatural), M/M, Romantic Soulmates, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:46:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 19,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27010720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hard_boiled_candy/pseuds/Hard_boiled_candy
Summary: Dean Winchester is driving back from his niece's birth when he spots a man about to jump off a bridge. He rescues him, and in trying to help him, helps himself to a better life.With an instant in-law.A really, really annoying one.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester
Comments: 8
Kudos: 81





	1. A lucky grab

The little cry, more tentative than angry or scared, was still in Dean’s ears. Sam had called him and despite the hour, Dean was welcome to join him and Eileen as she gave birth, “As long as you stay on the cheerleading side, not the business end,” Eileen signed, before she groaned again.

He’d held her hand (with her permission, of course) and encouraged her. Once, she’d winked at him. It had been amazing. Sam loved him so much he had wanted to share his child’s birth and Eileen was cool enough that she’d let him, and it had been, without question, one of the peak experiences of his life.

“Do you want to hold her?” Eileen said, and Dean felt two tears leak out as he gingerly took the baby in his arms for the first time and looked at her.

Mary’s little face had been squished and thoughtful, maybe a little grouchy. And then she’d opened her eyes and put Dean under a life-long spell. Mary looked right at him and figured him out right away, and it was wonderful.

A lot of people (basically, all of Eileen’s relatives, who, being on another continent, weren’t getting much of a vote) thought it was nuts that she was letting her brother-in-law (general consensus: _ew_!) into the delivery room. They were perplexed and unhappy that there was to _be_ no delivery room, just their bedroom at home. Dean got a chuckle every time Eileen described her relatives being freaked out that she was going to die in childbirth. Eileen was as tough as an old boot; it hardly seemed likely.

After the birth, he felt high, altered from normal reality, altered from the privilege of being there, of holding little Mary. He felt in tune with the whole world, for the first time in years. Dean left the happy new family and their cheerful, competent midwives to unwind and bond and he staggered out of the apartment at three in the morning, stunned by joy.

If he hadn’t had Baby, his vintage Impala, to cradle him, and keep him firmly in the here and now, he might have floated all the way up to the clouds to hang out with the angels, he was so happy.

He was driving across the last bridge before his apartment, and with a certainty he could not justify but was compelled to act on, he knew the man standing looking over that parapet was going to jump into the river.

The brakes protested as he was thrown against his seatbelt, and then he leapt out and ran, mindless with the urgency of the moment.

Just before the man went over into the icy water, Dean jumped up and grabbed the back and belt loop of his trench coat with both hands, and the two of them tumbled onto the sidewalk. They were safe, but winded. Dean moved first and put his arms around the man. He said, in the kindest voice he could use, “It’s going to be okay.”

The man didn’t answer. He might have fainted.

He was too thin for his height - he felt like rope wrapped on rebar under his clothes - and he smelled sour.

Dean dragged the man to his car and got him into the passenger side about the time he came to. Dean handed him a water bottle and said, “Do up your seatbelt.”

“Who are you?” the man said in a deep voice, that shook a few times. Under the dome light he looked to be in his thirties, quite tanned, and worn by worry, or work. “Where are you taking me?” He opened the water bottle with fumbling hands, and drank thirstily, never taking his eyes from Dean.

_Score one for Dean Winchester, I can tell when someone’s dehydrated!_

Smiling internally, Dean said, “Dean Winchester, my place. You are going to have a shower, a change of clothes and a meal, and then we’ll figure out where you’re going next.” He flicked his gaze over the man’s face. “You got a name?”

He sounded to Dean like he’d been born in a different era. “I was born James, but I received the name of an angel, and I am called Castiel.”

“You some kind of a religious nut?” Dean said after a second.

The man stiffened. “I’m not crazy!” Then he seemed cowed, for some reason, and slumped in his seat a little. Apologetically, he said, “I was told that I would be abused for being set apart by God.”

“Are you gonna to try to convert me?” Dean said. His tone had changed; he was obviously joking.

“I do not have the skill,” the man said in his low, almost emotionless voice, and Dean said, “Ya got me there, pal,” and laughed. Then he looked at Castiel’s stricken face, with its hollowed-out blue eyes, and laughed again. “Relax, man, you can worship however you like, as long as you’re not noisy about it.”

“We worship in silence. And for your information, I’m not likely to try to convert you to the ways of the people who threw me out.” He seemed almost snarky.

Dean chuckled again. “Well, thank God for that. So you’re homeless?”

“I can’t return to Haven. I have been expelled, because I am a freak who is an abomination to the Lord,” as if this was an acceptable explanation for his trouble.

“Man, you don’t want to go back there anyway, if that’s how they talk about you,” Dean said, screwing his face up for a second.

“No, I don’t,” Castiel said, looking straight out the windshield. “Brother Jerome said, ‘You’re hosed.’”

“Did you have any luggage?”

Castiel slowly shook his head. “No,” he said after a pause.

“And no money,” Dean said.

“No,” Castiel said. “They sent me away in nothing but my clothes.”

Dean ‘hmmed’. “Good thing, too, or I wouldn’t have had enough to grab hold of to keep you in the land of the living.”

There was an obviously unhappy pause. Castiel exhaled through his nostrils and shifted against the upholstery. Finally he said, “If I was worthy I would have been upheld by angels,” Castiel said.

“Only angel that applies in this case is the one that appears on tombstones,” Dean said callously. “If you jump off a bridge and don’t take precautions like ropes or bungee-cords or something, you’re gonna die, or spend life in state care as an indigent high quadraplegic. Trust me on this. I have friends who are social workers and they tell me shit that makes my blood run cold.”

“Social workers are the highest form of evil that the state can unleash upon a religious family,” Castiel stated calmly, as if it were a fact.

“Social workers,” Dean said flatly, to confirm. “Do you believe that?”

There was a pause. Castiel sounded uneasy and apologetic again. It bordered on being creepy, but it occurred to Dean that this poor guy was having to take in a lot at once, as well as possibly having the spins from being hungry and thirsty. “I don’t know if I do. It was what I was taught.”

“Well, maybe you can avoid having that opinion, out loud, around me and my friends,” Dean said, allowing himself to be annoyed without telling Castiel what to think. “This is us.” He parked and clicked off the ignition.

“I like your car,” Castiel said. He was obviously trying to play nice with Dean and didn’t really know how. “It’s not plastic or overly flashy.”

Dean stroked the dashboard tenderly. “Don’t listen to the mean man, Baby, you’ve got all the flash you need in your shiny chrome. And speaking of Baby, I’ll tell you why I was passing by just now. I just got back from where my bro and sis-in-law had a baby, and I am now an _uncle_ , and that’s making me feel pretty damned good.”

There was a smile. It changed Castiel’s face dramatically. “Congratulations.”

“Tonight, I got to be in the room when a baby was born,” Dean said proudly.

“What was it like?” Castiel said, sounding awe-struck.

Dean got out of the car and Castiel followed him. “Fantastic,” Dean said. “I feel fan _tas_ tic! like the world just became a better place, and I’m a better person just because Mary is in it.”

“Mary,” Castiel breathed.

“Now don’t you go getting religious on me, she’s named after her grandmother,” Dean said. He realized he was practically bellowing, and thought of his neighbours, and how it was Oh! Dark Thirty and so he added, much more quietly, “Let’s get inside.”


	2. A period of adjustment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel adjusts to his new life with Dean

They arrived at the door and Dean got it open with a practiced movement.

“I’m in an unbeliever’s house. This is a door into the pit of Hell,” Castiel said conversationally. Imitating Dean, he took his shoes off.

Dean gaped, and then controlled himself. “I know it’s all part of your process or whatever,” Dean said, putting his hand against the wall, “but seriously, you need to stop with the religious talk, or I’m going to think you’re critiquing my housekeeping.” As he leaned up against the wall to fight with one boot, Castiel rushed up to help him and knelt to pull it off.

He looked up at Dean, almost expressionless, and Dean said, “Get the fuck up,” and Castiel sprang to his feet, dropping the boot and looking guilty.

“I’m not cursing at you,” Dean said, controlling his voice, “I’m beginning to get a picture of the folks you used to live with, and I’m hatin’ it, just hatin’ it.”

He sighed. “Please don’t grab hold of me without warning, it’s liable to get you a shot to the head; I’m antsy that way.”

“I understand,” Castiel said instantly.

“I’m going to reheat soup and you’re going to shower,” Dean said. He beckoned Castiel to follow him down the hall, one made even narrower by an unbroken row of shoulder-high bookshelves.

Castiel’s eyes almost bugged out. “Are all of these books _yours_?”

Dean’s expression froze and slowly morphed into a pained smile.

“Yeah, Cas.” He didn’t bother with the rest of his name, and it was a relief to lose it in the mists of ‘ten minutes ago’. “All of these books are mine.”

“You bought them all?”

“About half of them came from my mom, she gave me all her Stephen King as she read them and then bought them all again, can you believe it? No wonder that guy is fucking loaded, I tell ya. The rest is from school and random purchases, and people know I read, so I get stuff when they move.”

“My mother never read another book besides the Bible after we went to Haven,” Castiel said, still looking at the books. “Although the times she went to the doctor she read the magazine on the seat next to hers.”

Then, as if mentioning the Bible brought the thought into his mind, Castiel said, “I must tell you something, before you let me use the restroom. I was cast out of Haven because I confessed to homosexual feelings.”

Dean spent a moment recovering his ability to talk and keeping his expression neutral. He took a deep breath and said, “Thank you for telling me, but it’s not required for you to tell me or anyone that.”

Castiel was earnest; it seemed to be his default setting. “I have to tell you that. The Servant said that even in the landscapes of wickedness beyond the gate, homosexuals need to advise people who they are so they can prevent you from using the toilet if they still care about God’s judgement.”

“I mean, holy shit,” Dean said, in a quiet, worried way. He took another deep breath, almost shaking like a dog for the briefest time. He recollected that he was being a host. There was no way he could verbally deal with the hate Castiel so casually mentioned, so he concentrated on being hospitable. “Your towel and washcloth are here, your toothbrush is here,” and he pulled a new one out of the cupboard, “And here’s a new comb, sheesh! I’m a pack rat, now that I’ve got my own place. You can use this soap and this shampoo and take as long as you like. I’ll set some clothes just inside the door for you in a couple of minutes. I’m going to work on soup.”

“I’m very hungry,” Castiel said humbly.

“Well, don’t pass out in the shower. I should probably feed you first but dude, you smell like you’ve been living rough for a minute. As for the food, it won’t be anything fancy.”

Castiel was pink instead of grey when he got out. He had dressed in the soft, worn casual clothes Dean left for him and had combed his hair. As he sat down at the table, he looked like a teenager with his hair slicked down, and Dean suppressed a chuckle at the same time he felt like he’d been pinned to the wall by his brilliant blue gaze.

Dean swallowed hard, and joined him. “I’ve been up all night and I’m starving even if it’s almost time for breakfast,” he said. “Keep the grace short,” he added, since Castiel looked like he was settling in to say a few words over his food. He looked hurt, and said, with an innocent air, “Dean, don’t you want to give thanks for this, your first meal after your niece was born?”

“Darn you with your terrible but really effective logic,” Dean said, hijacking the saying of grace. “Lord, thank you for the food we eat and the company we share it with.”

“Amen,” Castiel said. He bobbed his head once and then ate neatly, and fast.

Within moments of finishing his soup, Castiel was overcome by exhaustion. Dean looked at him as he visibly faded from consciousness. “There’s a pillow and two sheets for the sofa.”

Castiel didn’t wait; he was emotionally and physically wrung-out.

Dean thought of the moment he grabbed him. Castiel did not foresee this warm apartment; all he could imagine in that moment was God’s stark choice to gather him to heaven or let him be cast into hell by his own sin.

Castiel lay down, and then seemed surprised to see Dean sit on the floor next to his head.

“We haven’t talked about it, but before I go to sleep I have to know. Are you still feeling like hurting yourself?”

“No. Do you want me to tell you if —?” Castiel asked, his voice faint and sleepy.

“Yeah. If you’re still here in the morning you get pancakes.”

His voice was far away. “I like pancakes,” Castiel said, and he was asleep.

Lines of privation and exhaustion were carved into his face, even though he was still young. Asleep, he seemed even more innocent. “Man, you’re a weirdo,” Dean said, getting up from the floor and regarding his unusual house guest with bemusement for a moment longer before he turned back to the kitchen table for the cleanup.

To Castiel’s surprise when he woke at nine-thirty the next morning, Dean was gone. He’d left a note in neat print:

I’m at work but I’ll poke my head in at lunch.

Today’s Agenda:

Eat breakfast, drink coffee!

Go to the Magic Wall of Books, pick something out and read it!

Have a nice long shower! The hot water here is freaking awesome!

Brush your teeth!

Make a list of toiletries you need!

Watch TV!

Make a list of people you want to contact!

Castiel noticed the stack of pancakes and bacon and the carafe of coffee and, still looking at the note, sat down to devour his breakfast. In his exhaustion, he had slept, all unknowing, as Dean cooked it, only a few yards away.

There was a notebook sitting on the kitchen table.

It had a label on it “My story - How I ended up in Dean Winchester’s kitchen!”

He finished his breakfast, washed the dishes, and sat down at the table. He looked off into the distance for a while, then picked up the ballpoint pen Dean had left him, and began to write.


	3. Cas Van Winkel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel tries to figure out what's going on in the world.

Breakfast was long behind him as Dean bustled through the door, eager to learn whether his houseguest had trashed his apartment.  
“Dean!” Castiel said, smiling at him as if he was the best thing ever.  
Dean admitted to himself that his houseguest looked almost a hundred percent now, and it was a big improvement. He was still too skinny, though. “Cas! How’d it go?”  
“I didn’t do much on that list. My hand has a terrible cramp, I’ve been writing all morning. I hope you don’t mind? I made and drank another whole pot of coffee.”  
Dean chuckled. He looked around the apartment, which had not been torn apart by a crazy man, and said, “Sam swears it’s writer fuel, so yeah, fill your boots. What did you do?”  
“I’m up to 2003,” Castiel said proudly. “I went to Haven when I was twelve, so I haven’t even done five years yet. Every time I remember something I remember something else and I’ve just been writing, writing, writing, writing, like a dam burst.”  
“Well, tell your muse to take thirty, and I’ll make lunch.”  
Cas nodded, and then stared at Dean with a level, intent gaze. After a while he said, “Why are you taking me in?”  
“You don’t have any ID or money,” Dean said, which didn’t really answer the question, but let him know that Dean knew he was in dire need. He elaborated. “Something happened to you and you need food and shelter, same’s everyone else.”  
“You looked through my things while I was in the shower,” Castiel said. He didn’t seem upset about it. “I told you, all I have is my clothes.”  
“Well, you need ID if you’re going to do much in this life, thanks to the government, so let’s start at the beginning. Where were you born?”  
Castiel shifted in his chair. “I was born at a Christian community in Oregon.”  
Another home birth; a weird coincidence. “Now you’re going to tell me your birth was never registered.”  
He sounded doubtful. “I don’t think it ever was.”  
“Oh Jesus,” Dean said.  
“You blaspheme a great deal,” Castiel said with a note of disapproval.  
“I guess God doesn’t mind,” Dean said with a somewhat abashed smile, “Since she let me prevent you from falling into that river.”  
“I am unclear as to whether that statement could be supported by the Bible,” Castiel said, narrowing his eyes.  
“Man, you’re funny,” Dean said appreciatively.   
“I’m not trying to be funny,” Castiel said, and now the agitation was obvious.  
“That’s part of what’s so funny,” Dean said. “Now we have to figure out how to get you some ID, but in the meantime, after work, do you want to go get some clothes?”  
“You are very generous.”  
“I’m taking you to the Salvation Army store, and you have a forty dollar limit, not counting socks and underwear and shoes, which you need new.”  
Castiel was dignified. “I can wear used, and you’re still being generous.”  
“Nope. Generous is when you donate half your income to the women’s shelter. I’m just being a decent human being.”  
Castiel’s voice was even deeper than usual. “God is testing me by making unbelievers more godly than the people of Haven.”  
“Stop worrying about what God thinks and start taking care of yourself until you’re able to make your own way without getting hurt by creeps,” Dean said. “When you can manage that, you can apologize to God later about how you forgot to text him back, or whatever.”  
“I can’t forget about God!” Castiel said, scandalized.  
Dean switched tactics and started making lunch as he spoke. “Well, think about a soldier of the Lord going into battle. He prays to keep his mind on what he’s doing for the fight so he doesn’t get distracted about all the commandments he’s breaking while he’s slashing and smiting, and then he thanks God afterward. You should think about doing the same.”  
Castiel considered this. His expression veered close to becoming a frown, but shifted to cautious agreement after a moment. “You may be right. It’s something to think about.”  
A few minutes later, Dean’s kitchen tornado act came to an end, and there was egg salad on wheat toast with a side of celery and carrot sticks. “Can I have tea?” Castiel asked timidly.  
“Help yourself,” Dean said. “There’s black tea and peppermint tea and my brother’s stash of perfume crap tea.”  
“Thank you,” Castiel said gratefully, and put the kettle on.  
It was a little thing, just his houseguest getting up and doing stuff in the kitchen, but he was wearing Dean’s clothes, and Castiel making tea while wearing Dean’s clothes did something weird to his innards.  
He caught Dean staring at him, and smiled. Dean’s innards did another little shift, and he paid more attention to his food.  
When Cas resumed his seat, he said, tentatively, “I don’t really know much about you. How do you earn a living?”  
Dean gave a one-side smile. He’d ended up in this job without really working very hard on it, and he often thought of doing something else for a living. “I’m a parts and service manager for a GM dealership,” he said.  
“An honest job,” Castiel said, almost sighing. “I’ve only ever worked on a farm or done carpentry.”  
“That’s honest work,” Dean said.  
“Not really. Not if you don’t get paid for it,” Castiel said, and was that genuine bitterness in his voice?  
“You never got paid?” Dean asked, astonished.  
“No.”  
“That’s… uh … isn’t that slavery?” Dean asked.  
They gazed at each other, Dean almost horrified, Castiel stoic. “More or less. Now that I’m sitting in your kitchen, I can’t believe I stayed there for almost two decades.”  
“Don’t beat yourself up,” Dean said.   
“The Servant had Brother Jerome for that,” Castiel said.   
“Holy shit,” Dean said blankly. He couldn’t tell whether it was grim humour or Castiel being literal.  
“You curse a great deal,” Castiel said. He sounded conversational.  
“I guess,” Dean said, shrugging.  
They finished their soup. Dean slurped as he ate and Cas kept glancing at him. “We weren’t allowed to make noise as we were eating,” Cas said.  
“Relax,” Dean said. “This is a place where you can scratch your balls in peace.”  
Cas looked surprised, and then, as if he didn’t want to, he emitted a guilty chuckle.  
Dean smiled and shook his head.  
“I’ll be home at 5:30. Is there anything I can help you with before I head out?” Dean asked.  
Castiel was hesitant. “Can you show me… the internet?”  
Dean laughed. “Jeez, man, sure. Your pent-up demand for porn must be something else. When’s the last time you got access?”  
“I do not intend to watch porn,” Castiel said primly.  
“Nobody intends to watch porn,” Dean said. “It just sorta happens.”  
“Perhaps for you. I feel like I don’t know anything. I’m coming back to the world after a long prison sentence, and I’d like to bring myself up to date.”  
“Well, start with Google and Wikipedia,” Dean said.  
“‘Google and Wick-a-pee-dee-a’,” Castiel repeated dubiously.  
“I’ll set it up for you, after I toast my browser history,” Dean said, waggling his eyebrows.  
“I have no idea what that means,” Castiel said.  
“I keep forgetting you’re like Rip Van Winkle,” Dean said.  
“He slept for a long time,” Castiel said. He was frowning again, and since he had no idea how adorable he was, it was unjust how much that frown turned Dean on.  
“Well, so did you, culture-wise,” Dean said. He spent an amusing few minutes getting Castiel up to speed on his laptop, made sure he had notes, and gave him his friend Charlie’s number; if anyone could handle having a total stranger/computer noob calling her on Dean’s say-so, it was her. Castiel was a quick study and said, “I think I’ll look at what happened in the world while I was at Haven. Thank you so much for helping me.”


	4. Dinnertime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean is helpless before the prospect of a homecooked meal.

Dean got home at 5:30 with his ass dragging at the thought of having to rustle up a meal for two. A mouthwatering ‘dinner’s ready’ aroma brought him upright at the door.

“Cas?” he called into the house.

“I’m here,” he said. “I hope you don’t mind, I made dinner.”

“Oh boy,” Dean said.

“Meatloaf, frozen peas and mashed potatoes,” Castiel said.

Dean was not expecting that. “Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy,” Dean said rapidly, and after ditching his shoes, he came into the kitchen like a teenager on a mission to raid a fridge. “Smells amazing. Now I want you to kiss me, and ask me how my day was.”

Eyes bugged out, Castiel spun on his heel away from the potatoes he was mashing to look at Dean; and after a moment he realized Dean was joking.

“That was uncalled-for,” Castiel said, and Dean felt like a complete heel.

“Yeah, shitty gag, sorry.”

“I’m sorry I told you I’m homosexual if it means you’re going to be teasing me about it,” Castiel added. He banged the potato masher against the side of the pot to unstick it, and Dean flinched a little at the noise.

“I’ll set the table,” Dean said, desperate to change the subject. “I can’t thank you enough for cooking,” he added.

As he brushed by Castiel, he said softly, “Is there any news of your new niece?”

“My brother texted me that her poop has changed colour, and this is progress.”

Castiel smiled indulgently. “New parents are fascinated by their babies, or so I’ve seen, and they want everyone to know, especially if things are going well.”

“Yeah,” Dean said, reaching the plates down and grabbing some forks. Castiel looked at him, and he got out knives as well. Dean wanted to know how he did that, when most of the time he came off so meek and mild.

“How is it, having a new family member?” Castiel asked.

“Fantastic, and like I want to help, and protect her, and Eileen. Sam can take care of himself, the big moose,” Dean said. He put the dishes down on the table.

“That is how families are supposed to be,” Castiel said. “I thought that’s how the people of Haven and I were, but it turns out we’re not really family at all.”

There was a little gulp in his voice. Well, that explained Castiel’s quiet droopiness. Poor guy had been crying.

Dean said the first thing that came into his mind. “That’s rough.” He reached for the dish of peas as Castiel put down pot holders for the meatloaf and potatoes. The smell was so appetizing, Dean felt like he might drool.

Castiel sat, and then frowned.

“Yeah, go ahead, pray,” Dean said.

“Bless this food for our use and the service of others, in Jesus’ name we pray, amen,” Castiel said.

“Like that one, gets the job done and it’s short,” Dean said, rather than ‘amen’.

Castiel looked like he was going to comment about the slice - the extra-large, three portion slice - Dean cut for himself off the meatloaf. Finally he said, “Don’t you want leftovers?”

“Cas, you worry too much for someone so good-looking,” Dean teased. “Besides, I’m a ‘meatatarian’.”

“I’ll be counting how many peas you eat,” Castiel said sternly, in what appeared to be another low-key attempt at humor.

“See that you do,” Dean said, acknowledging it. He took a bite of the meatloaf and laughed and groaned at the same time. “Fantastic,” he said with his mouth full.

With a bashful expression, Castiel said, “Thank you.”

“Are you blushing?” Dean asked, waggling his eyebrows. Castiel blushed even harder. “You should learn to take a compliment, you’re going to get so many,” Dean said, and was rewarded when it appeared that you could now use Castiel’s ears for navigation lights, they were so red.

“Why are you saying these things,” Castiel muttered under his breath.

“Because I like you,” Dean said, through his food.

“Perhaps you can wait to talk until you’ve finished chewing?” Castiel asked.

“’kay,” Dean said, and Castiel apparently gave up trying to gently instil table manners in his host, and turned his attention to his own food.

Watching him eat, eyes to his plate, in silence, Dean started to feel weird again. Objectively the guy was attractive, but there was something else, something about the way he moved, the way he was filling out and coming to life, that made him mesmerizing.

Castiel’s eyes suddenly met his, and Dean felt his breath catch. They were so honest, so earnest, and held so many questions in their depths.

“Are you - are you upset with me in some way?” Castiel asked. “You’re staring.”

“No!” Dean said, waving his left hand to dismiss the idea of being upset. “I’m trying to think of something low-key to ask that isn’t too prying or too much like an interview question.”

“Oh,” Castiel said.

“Did you write in your story of how you got here?”

“I did. After a very confusing effort to bring myself up to date on current events, I gave up and did something I _do_ know how to do, which is write in that journal. I’m afraid I’m going to need another one within a week or so, if I keep writing this much. I wrote 4300 words today.”

Dean’s eyebrows went up, and then down. “By hand.”

“By hand. I had to soak it in cold water halfway through and that really helped.”

Dean looked at Castiel with a knowing little half smile. “You’re really going hard at this!”

“I am. I am a very hard worker, I just never got a chance to do what _I_ wanted with what I was working on,” Castiel said, and then looked shocked at himself. “I suppose you find me boastful.”

“My roommate vacuumed - yes, I noticed! cooked dinner and wrote forty million words today. Boast away, it’s not like you were sitting on your ass today crying.”

There was an awkward pause as Dean remembered that Castiel probably had been crying. He hastily stumbled into saying something, hoping it would help.

“Hey, Cas, you’re lonely and literally feeling abandoned and it’s okay to cry. It’s even okay to cry around me. I mean, I may be uncomfortable but that’s my problem, not yours.”

“You are - you’re serious?” Castiel said in amazement. “I - they had very strict rules at Haven - I was only allowed to cook when the Servant was at another Haven. The Servant hated it if men cried, Brother Jerome - “ and Castiel stopped speaking as if he’d walked into a door.

“Yeah,” Dean said, after a pause. “I get that it was pretty bad. I want you to think about this place as yours, though. Do what you want, if you have questions ask first. I mean, unless you’re cooking dinner, we’ve already established I’m okay with that.” Dean smiled at Castiel, and Castiel gave him a watery smile back.

“Dean,” Castiel said.

“That’s my name, don’t wear it out,” Dean joked.

“I don’t know how long I’ll be here.”

“Cas? Now you’re seriously pissing me off. The answer is, ‘as long as you need to be’. Lemme ask you a question. Do you feel you have to be somewhere else? Are there family you have to go back to?”

Castiel sighed and pushed his mashed potatoes around. “My mother had two sisters and one brother. I don’t know what my aunt’s married names are, and my uncle died when I was ten when the riverbank he was working on collapsed during a flood.”

“We should figure out how to look for your aunts.”

“I don’t know how interested they’d be in finding me,” Castiel said.

“I bet your aunts think about you and your mom once a week at least and pray that you’re okay,” Dean said.

“My mother was very angry with them when she cut contact. It was unpleasant,” Castiel said.

“Well, maybe they’re Christians and they’ll turn the other cheek. Do you remember which church they used to go to, if they did? You could ask the pastor about them,” Dean said helpful.

“That’s a good idea,” Castiel said. “Or would be, if I wanted to find them.”

“Cas,” Dean said reprovingly.

Castiel looked at him, with that stoic, ‘you’ll never guess what I’m thinking’ look.

“Did they abuse you when you were young?”

“No,” Castiel said. “But they never came looking for me, either.” Dean thought blankly that perhaps Castiel was not a total wuss.

“I understand the anger. I do. Maybe you’ll get over it. But they’re older than you and if you don’t reach out, the choice may be taken away from you, anyway. I don’t have much in the way of family - just a half-brother who lives two states away and a little brother with a new baby. I’d love to have more. Even if they ended up being people I only called twice a year! Could you think about trying? As a favor to me? It’s important enough you shouldn’t put it off… but if they are shitheads you don’t have to waste another thought on them.”

Castiel’s eyes, Dean thought, should really not be that blue.

“I will think about it,” he said. “I’m not used to talking while I eat, it’s upsetting my digestion.”

“Damn, Cas, you sound like that old broad on Downton Abbey.”

“Shh!” Castiel said his nose wrinkling.

It was so cute Dean wanted to scoot around the table and kiss him. He sighed and ate his food in silence, even chewing with his mouth closed.

He took and ate a second helping of peas.


	5. He has to stop wearing my clothes

After supper, Castiel insisted on cleaning up and Dean was about to let him, when he decided to invoke the ‘he who cooks does not clean up’ rule, and sent Castiel over to the laptop desk to look for his relatives, ‘or whatever else you want to research’.

He whistled and occasionally danced as he cleaned up. Twice he caught Castiel looking at him like he’d sprouted extra arms.

“May I ask why you’re so cheerful?” Castiel asked.

“I just ate a great meal, you wrote in your journal today, my new niece is making my brother send me ‘I love you!’ sloppy-drunk texts at two in the afternoon when I know he’s sober, Eileen is recovering beautifully according to the midwife and she didn’t even need stitches, and my new roommate makes the best damned meatloaf I ever ate.”

“Really?” Castiel said. “Thank you. And, um, those all seem like things to be happy about.”

Dean laughed. “Yeah, they are.”

“How do you propose I look for my relatives?”

“Find their old church, message the pastor. Find one person in the phone book from the old stomping grounds whose name you recognize and start making phone calls.”

There was a long pause. In a tone implying Castiel was more ashamed of himself than he ought to be, he said, “I’m very nervous using the telephone. I wasn’t allowed to use the phone at Haven.”

“Oh,” Dean said. He thought about it. “You want me to do it?”

“Yes, please,” Castiel said.

“Well, sit next to me and learn from a master at working the phones,” Dean said. He brought another chair over to the desk.

For the next half hour, the two of them poked around the internet, with Dean ‘driving’, until finally Dean opened a church website and Castiel said excitedly,“Oh, my goodness!”

“What?” Dean said. Castiel extended a finger and said, “Her! that’s my aunt Naomi! she’s on the board of trustees at her church!”

“I can’t believe she’d put her phone number on a church website,” Dean said. “She must be on every scammer’s list in the known freakin’ universe… well, that didn’t take long. Wanna talk to your aunt? I’ll dial if you’re feeling shaky,” Dean teased. Castiel nodded swiftly.

“And I’ll go into my bedroom and let you talk,” Dean said, after dialling for Castiel and handing over the phone.

Dean closed the door of his room and wished Cas luck.

Maybe 45 minutes later, Castiel was knocking gently on his door. Dean opened up and Castiel looked at him like he could laugh and cry and dance all at the same time. His face was pink and his eyes were shining.

“Dean,” Castiel said.

“Things go okay?”

“Well, not perfectly,” Castiel said, collecting himself. “But I don’t care about that.”

Dean put his car mag down and came out to the kitchen. “Tell me all about it.”

When they sat down at the kitchen table, Cas said, “I have good news and I have bad news.”

“Give me the bad news first.”

“My aunt can’t take me in. She said, ‘If you don’t mind living in a tent you can come here but I have no room because a refugee family from Guatemala just moved in with me!’”

Castiel stared at Dean, who responded by saying, “What, did you think I’m trying to ditch you? You can stay as long as you need to. Relax.”

“I don’t – relax – I mean,” Castiel said. “I’m sorry, but I’m a worrier.”

“What’s the good news?”

“I have a small inheritance from my uncle’s estate! She says that the last time she looked in on the account, it should be enough for schooling; you said I’d need to do that to make my way and I’ve been thinking about it.”

Dean said, “That’s fantastic news…. but you still need to get ID.”

“She said she’d swear an affidavit for me so I can get started on that.”

“Awesome! Any other family news?”

“I have my other aunt’s phone number, and also for a couple of cousins. She’s going to call them first so they’re expecting to hear from me. And now I think I’ll make a cup of tea.”

“Okay, but I’d like to get out and get some clothes for you afterward,” Dean said.

“You are very good to me,” Castiel said humbly, and Dean got that, ‘Damn, he’s hot!’ feeling again in his gut.

He needed to push the feeling away. “You cooked me dinner,” Dean said in a chiding voice. “You’re easy to like.”


	6. Kiss Me You Fool (Did I say that out loud?)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel is TOO CUTE and MUST BE KISSED

Castiel had not chosen his own clothing in twenty years. He told Dean that the mere prospect of having any clothing at all that hadn’t been picked out by a very nice woman who was almost blind was making him so excited that he allowed himself to fidget.

“I take it fidgeting wasn’t allowed at Haven.”

“No,” Castiel said.

“I know I’d fucking hate them, and they’d fucking hate me… okay, we’re at the Sally Ann. I know they aren’t nice to trans and gay people but I don’t have a lot of choice here for secondhand stores. They close in an hour,” Dean said, “So make sure you get into the change rooms in plenty of time.”

Castiel picked out dress shirts and chinos and t-shirts and a pair of shorts and a casual jacket. He picked out some shoes and Dean made a face. “No, shoes I’ll buy you new, I’m not crazy about athlete’s foot.”

Dean hung around the change room. When Cas exited to look at the larger mirrors, he looked almost embarrassed. But he shouldn’t have, Dean thought. He was just as cute as a goddamned button. And after Dean paid, he tried to give a little speech about how Dean had given him a budget and Castiel hadn’t been able to keep within it.

Dean shut that shit down and bought Castiel a milkshake from the burger joint to keep his mouth too busy to compose a hymn of praise. “Stop,” Dean said, as Castiel made another effort to thank him. “You’re embarrassing me.”

There was a message on the land line; Castiel’s cousin Gabriel had sweet-talked Dean’s number out of Naomi, hoping to brief him about an investment opportunity for his inheritance.

“I’d like you to carefully consider my proposition before you find make your final decision with respect to the funds,” Gabriel said, at least according to Castiel.

“Wow. He sounds like a real charmer,” Dean said. “By which I mean he’s a con artist and a user.”

“I should talk to him,” Castiel said. He sounded uneasy.

He called his aunt Naomi back first, at Dean’s strong recommendation (actually it was more like a command) and she was pleased when she’d heard Gabriel had re-established contact and furious when she learned what he’d contacted Castiel about.

“Castiel, I can’t warn you in strong enough possible words; Gabe’s a sweet man and he’s been very helpful to me in the past, but he’s very bad with his own money and even worse with other people’s and I have to say he misled me about why he wanted to speak with you.”

“Told ya,” Dean said. “Hang on to that money, you’ll need it for school, or getting yourself set up.”

The phone rang again, and it was Castiel’s other aunt. Dean put his headphones on and sat on the sofa. He wandered around a very picturesque part of ancient Greece, playing Xbox for a while to stay in the living room if Castiel needed him, without eavesdropping on a sensitive conversation.

“My aunt Laura says she’ll give me money for school or a business and that she prayed for me every day while I was missing,” Castiel said. “She also said how me being restored to our family will allow her to testify to the power of prayer at church next Sunday.”

“Ha!” Dean said. “This calls for whiskey!” and he pulled a bottle of Crown Royal out of the tallest cupboard and set up a couple of shot glasses.

Castiel watched him with a small frown.

“Alcohol is strictly forbidden at Haven!” he commented.

Dean used his announcer voice. “And now! Ladies _and_ germs! You’re about to find out why!” Dean grinned. “It’s just one shot. One teeny shot.” They were actually doubles. He poured them out a drink apiece.

“I’ll cough,” Castiel gloomily predicted.

“Probably.”

“To losing your whiskey virginity!” Dean toasted, and downed his with aplomb. Castiel scowled at Dean, and still scowling, upended the shot glass and started wheezing, and after Dean clapped him on the back said, in a choked voice, “Will anyone care if I have two?”

Dean, as graceful as any geisha who ever conducted a tea ceremony, poured out another one with a tender smile.

“To family,” Castiel said, very sincerely, and they downed their shots.

“When do I start feeling drunk?” he asked.

“Well, you just ate, so probably not for a few minutes,” Dean said.

Castiel pushed his shot glass forward.

“I got a bad feeling about this,” Dean said. He thought about what to say. “To Mary,” he said, and downed his shot.

Dean watched as Castiel drank his liquor, coughed, and wiped his mouth.

“Really, Cas, you should hold up.”

Castiel said, “Am I drunk yet? My mouth can’t taste anything any more and my throat and stomach are burning.”

“Ah, feeling all warm inside. Yup, the drunkenness has commenced! Now the thing you gotta remember is _pace yourself_ and _hydrate_.”

“Hydrate?”

“Drink water, or orange juice.”

“I feel … odd.”

“You just pounded three shots. You should feel _awesome_ ,” Dean said.

“I should feel, ‘awe-inspiring?’” Castiel said, laboriously trying to make a play on words.

“Well, you probably do,” Dean flirted, wriggling his fingers.

Castiel tilted his head to one side and regarded Dean.

“You’re very good-looking,” Dean assured him.

Castiel was already pink from the shots; now he positively glowed. “You’re teasing me again,” he said. He looked away.

“No, I’m not,” Dean said. “But I guess being humble is all part of your brand.”

“Humility is a virtue,” Castiel said. He stood, almost lost his balance, and said, “You aren’t saved, are you?”

“Man, I told you not to try to convert me,” Dean said, face screwed up.

“No, I don’t mean to do that,” Castiel said carefully. “I’m going to show you what I’ve been thrown out of,” and for the next ten minutes, thanks to between four and six ounces of Crown Royal, and because Dean encouraged him, Castiel wandered up and down the living room, pretending to give a sermon like he got every Sunday from the “Servant”, ‘either live or on tape’.

After a minute or so, Dean realized that Castiel was mocking the Servant and he started to laugh. This wound Castiel up, and he started flinging his arms around and exaggeratedly pulling out the final syllables of words, and finally, after a truly terrible and mostly incomprehensible impromptu sermon about the evils of modernism and the perils of socialism, they were both on the floor, laughing their asses off. Cas had this high, breathy chuckle that made Dean never want to stop laughing.

“Oh my fucking God,” Dean said, gasping. “You could do a comedy routine like that. Unbelievable.” They were sitting next to each other, backs to the sofa, and Dean ruffled Castiel’s hair and said, “Don’t ever change.”

Castiel frowned and said, “But I need to.”

Dean chuckled. “Yeah, you want to go to school and get a job and leave the past behind. I meant, don’t change your basic personality, because there’s nothing wrong with it,” Dean said.

“Nothing wrong with _you_ ,” Castiel said stubbornly. “I could say, ‘don’t ever change’ to you, too.”

“Mmm, dunno ‘bout that,” Dean said. “I could change plenty.”

“Like what?” Castiel said. His lips were less than a foot away, and Dean was just drunk enough to look at them a little longer than he should.

“Do I have something on my face?” Castiel asked, brushing his lips and cheek.

“Yeah, me,” Dean said, and kissed him.


	7. This is normal. This is insane. This is perfectly fine.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From kissing to a mild panic attack.

Castiel made a little yelping sound, startled. Then he sighed and let Dean kiss him. It was awkward and clumsy and very intense.

After a few moments, Castiel put his hands up and pushed gently on Dean’s chest.

“What?” Dean said softly.

“I’m saving myself for my husband,” Castiel said.

Dean chuckled. Then he rested his head on the sofa, and laughed aloud.

“I’m not joking,” Castiel said fiercely. “I’m not a promiscuous person,” he added.

“I don’t see how you could be,” Dean said. He was still amused, but he wasn’t laughing any more. “Okay, I understand. You have different standards than I do, and it’s just as well, if we’re roommates – we probably shouldn’t be fooling around.”

“No,” Castiel said, but he sounded conflicted. Dean laughed again, which was mean of him, he acknowledged. He had tasted those lips, and at least satisfied his curiosity, even if it meant that his devastatingly handsome but hopelessly square roommate was off the menu.

“Let’s put it in the rear-view,” Dean said. He got up and poked around in the kitchen. Castiel picked himself off the floor and walked, perhaps a little unevenly, back to the laptop.

Dean turned toward Castiel. “Do you have a preference about what to thaw for dinner tomorrow night, or do you want to get takeout?”

“Takeout?” Cas said, perking up. He’d had pizza, and liked it. Then he sagged a little. “I’d prefer not to spend any money unnecessarily.”

“So frugal,” Dean said. “You’re going to make someone a wonderful husband.”

Castiel now sounded impaired, which was hilarious. “You’re mocking me again! I _would_ be a wonderful husband. I’m loyal and hardworking and honest and I would want to put his happiness first.”

Dean didn’t disagree. “Like I said, a wonderful husband.”

“What about you!?” Castiel asked, almost belligerently. “Would you be a wonderful husband?”

“No,” Dean said, as if it was obvious. “If that were true, I’d be married already.”

Castiel’s eyes narrowed. “You have a job. You’re good-looking. Apart from your table manners, you’re probably a catch.”

Dean snorted.

Castiel persisted. “Why aren’t you married?”

Dean was just impaired enough to tell him. “Because whenever I tell people I’m dating I’m bisexual, I get the brush-off.”

Castiel thought about it and typed ‘bisexual definition’ into the google search bar, or so Dean guessed, as his next words were, “I take it that you are sexually attracted to both men and women.”

“Yup, just like it says on the label. Although these days pansexual is an option,” Dean said. “So chicken thighs would be okay, I take it.” He said, ‘I take it’ in a lightly mocking way, but Castiel didn’t notice.

“I could bread and bake them. Normally I’d make salad to go with it but I didn’t see any ingredients.”

“Fucking rabbit food.”

“You could marry a woman _or_ a man,” Castiel said. “But maybe they won’t marry _you_ , because you swear too much.” He almost sounded sad.

Dean snickered.

After another painful pause, Castiel said, “I don’t think I understand homosexuality the way I’m supposed to.”

“Ain’t nobody understand that shit, we just live with it,” Dean said. “And please start saying ‘being gay’ rather than ‘homosexuality’ because it makes you sound like a pervy old relic.”

“I feel like an old relic,” Castiel said, and it was almost a groan. “I don’t think I’m very pervy, though,” he said after a pause.

“You can have a hug, or another drink,” Dean said, shooting him a glance.

“I’ll have another drink, thank you,” Castiel said. Eyes narrowed - was he trying to be funny, or did he just have no clue, it was brutally hard to tell - he said, “I have no idea where one of your hugs might lead. Why did you kiss me? I know I’m not supposed to ask, but I have to know.”

Dean put a plate under the chicken thighs and stuck them back in the fridge.

“I had an impulse. I have impulses. I have, actually, many impulses. I acted on this one.”

“Is that what alcohol does, make more impulses?” Castiel said. “I don’t think that’s good in the long term.”

“Well, it’s sure how a lot of babies get made,” Dean said.

Castiel’s mind branched off into an obvious pathway. “Do you have children of your own?”

“Not for lack of trying,” Dean said. Lisa was the closest he’d managed it, and he’d almost died of boredom - outside the bedroom, because Lisa had insane skills - before she called him on his shit and arranged his departure. Not his finest hour, he owned to himself.

“I feel strange about you kissing me.”

“Me too, I shouldn’t have done it,” Dean sighed.

“Sounds like regret,” Castiel said. He didn’t exactly sound offended, but as if he might be wondering why Dean regretted it. _Jeez, Cas, can’t have it both ways._

He sighed. “‘Cause I didn’t ask you first. If I had, you’d have said, ‘no thanks!’ and then I wouldn’t be – ” and then Dean realized that talking to Castiel about it was a bad idea, so he tried to tie the conversation off. “I didn’t get your consent, so I shouldn’t have tried to kiss you,” Dean said abruptly.

“I don’t understand consent,” Castiel said. He started talking steadily. “To be clear, I know what the word means, but I never really got to **give** any while I was at Haven. There was a work schedule, and free time on Sundays and Wednesdays, but every minute of every day I had to… you don’t know what a luxury it’s been, to just do whatever I want to. And I probably would have been frozen, if you hadn’t left that list for me. Did I thank you for that? That really was the nicest thing you could have done - you understood I came from a place where I didn’t get a lot of choices, and you gave me a list, and when I got stuck I could go to another part of the list, and then I started making my own lists, and I stopped feeling anxious because I wasn’t thinking about Haven any more. It just dropped out of my mind, and you gave me the tools to do it. I don’t feel free, but I feel freer, if you know what I mean.”

“I do. I’m glad I was able to help.”

“I think I’d like to drink more whiskey, now,” Castiel said.

“Nope,” Dean said. “You get better looking when you drink.”

The eyes narrowed. “I don’t understand.”

“If you drink more I’ll be tempted to kiss you again.”

“As long as you’re only tempted,” Castiel said, and put his shot glass down in front of Dean.

“Are you messing with me?” Dean asked in astonishment. “Hey, I’m okay with you saving yourself for Mr. Right, whoever that lucky dude may be, but don’t rub my face in how I don’t qualify.”

“I didn’t – “ Castiel said, blushing and stammering. “I’m sure I misspoke,” he said, getting a grip on himself and speaking with more firmness. “I’m not saving myself for anybody. I merely didn’t want to display my inexperience.”

“You didn’t get to be a gay teenager with the other gay teenagers, and I did, so our experiences are different,” Dean said, trying to keep his voice sympathetic. “It doesn’t make you less hot.”

“You think I’m hot.” Castiel spoke with such grave innocence that Dean felt like his underwear was being torched.

“Kinda intensely so,” Dean said with a lopsided grin. “But if I promise not to critique you, you wanna take charge?” and got the shock of his life when Castiel took him at his word. He reached under Dean’s left arm and over his right shoulder and pulled him in, kissing him softly at first and then with more and more intensity.

Dean heard himself sigh and his eyes closed. He made a little sound in his throat. Castiel hummed into his mouth. Time stopped and restarted with a few long, slow strokes of Castiel’s tongue.

After a while Castiel buried his face in Dean’s shoulder. “Nothing as exciting as kissing you has ever happened to me. I’m sure it’s all old hat to you,” he murmured.

Dean, who could control neither his breathing nor his erection, slid his hands down Castiel’s back and pulled gently on his ass. “What do you feel comfortable doing?” He brought his hands back up to rest chastely on the small of Castiel’s back.

“Is it enough for you to just kiss?” Castiel said apologetically.

“Sure,” Dean said. “What,” he said, when all Castiel did was stare at him, not closing the distance again.

“I was so sad two days ago and now my heart’s pounding so hard I can barely hear myself talk,” Castiel said.

“I can’t stop you from being sad, but I can definitely kiss you,” Dean said. They kissed for a long time, rocking back and forth in each other’s arms. Castiel put his head down again, and Dean smiled into his hair. “Too much for you?” he said, teasing gently.

Castiel’s eyes weren’t blue any more. They were black. He was flushed and his pretty pink lips were pinker and fuller than ever. Dean leaned forward and nipped, super gently, on Castiel’s lower lip, then trailed nips and kisses along his jawline, down his neck to his collarbone.

Castiel trembled in his arms from head to foot. He was aching with need for him, Dean could feel it. The conflict was evident too.

Dean kept his voice loving and soft. “Take your time. We can watch TV, hang out for a while.”

Castiel started to sweat and pant, but it didn’t seem to be desire.

“Hey,” Dean said, standing far enough away now to assess him. “You okay?”

“I keep getting this feeling passing over me, that the Angel of Death came near me, and he’s still close. When I was kissing you I realized I could be dead this instant. I would not know this bliss.”

“Bliss - whoa - so flattered!” Dean said, smiling.

“I could be dead!” Castiel softly wailed into Dean’s chest.

“Siddown, I’ll make you a cup of tea,” Dean said, invisibly giving up on the idea of more necking. He made his voice cajoling. “And I’ll have you know, that is not a sentence that comes out of my mouth very often, so try to appreciate it for what it is. What kind of tea am I making?”

“Earl Grey.”

“Sure,” Dean said, and fired up the kettle. _To go from kissing Cas to helping him through a panic attack…. is this my life now._

_This is normal, this is insane, this is perfectly fine._


	8. Don't get conned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabe shows up and it's close, but Dean doesn't punch him.

They watched TV. Trying to get Castiel caught up with current trends in TV shows gave Dean a headache, until he figured out that the Great British Baking Show was probably exactly the right speed.

Dean fell asleep first.

Castiel was shaking him. “Yeah, what,” Dean said, and sat up.

“You should probably sleep in your own bed,” Castiel said. The kitchen clock said 10:35.

“Mf,” Dean said. He wandered off to the bathroom and brushed his teeth.

He could hear his own voice, yelling, and woke up completely to hear Castiel’s calm voice in the darkness. “You’re all right. It was just a bad dream.”

“Gah!” Dean said. He sat up and scrubbed his hands up and down his face.

“I’ll leave now,” Castiel said.

“Stay,” Dean said, before he could get his mouth under control.

Castiel shifted, where he was sitting on the floor next to Dean’s bed. “I can stay until you’re asleep, I suppose,” he said softly.

“That’s not what I meant,” Dean whispered. He could hear Castiel getting ready to stand up and tried not to sound too needy as he said, “I meant – lie down with me.”

“Um,” Castiel said. If ever there was a ‘deer in the headlights’ tone of voice, this was it. “Dean, I’m not – ”

“I just woke up from a horrible recurring nightmare and I would like a hug, please,” Dean said, with his brother’s, ‘ _I know how to read your mind, but nobody else does_ ,’ lecture in mind. ‘ _Use your words, Dean_.’

“Oh,” Castiel said. He cautiously lowered himself onto the bed as Dean flung the covers wide. “Turn around,” Castiel said, and put an arm tentatively around Dean. His warmth enveloped Dean, and he sighed, closed his eyes, and was asleep in less than a minute, safe in Castiel’s arms.

Castiel was banging around in the kitchen when Dean woke up. He had a strange little smile on his face which Dean couldn’t interpret, which vanished into what seemed to be his normal stoic and expressionless mask, prompting a little kick of disappointment.

“Thanks for helping me get back to sleep last night,” Dean said.

“I thought it was something sexual,” Castiel said. His voice was very deep all of a sudden.

“It wasn’t,” Dean said, shaking his head and making a wry face. “I don’t find nightmares about my mother burning to death sexy.”

“What?” Castiel said, almost dropping the carafe as he brought it and a cup to Dean at the kitchen table.

“Yeah. Sam was too little to remember, but I do. And I dream about it, and I can’t stop it.”

Castiel rested his hand over Dean’s for a second in silent sympathy, and poured him a cup of coffee. “Well, I got to watch over you while you slept, which was …” and he paused.

“Probably boring as shit,” Dean supplied. The coffee tasted better this morning, but it was still the same old brand. Castiel probably had some kind of a magic trick.

“Not really. It was good to be able to help a friend,” Castiel said. He was trying to sound casual.

“It’s good to have a friend,” Dean said heartily. He pointed to his coffee and said, “Thanks.”

Castiel nodded and changed the subject. “I haven’t left this apartment since I arrived here, except to go shopping. If you had a spare key, I could go for a walk.”

“What if you get lost?”

There was a little scowl that said, ‘ _Don’t be such a dope_.’ “There’s a map in the front hall, Dean, I think I’ll be okay.”

“What if the assholes who dumped you decide to take you back?” Dean said.

There was a long pause. “Do you have a reason to not want me to leave the apartment?” Castiel said.

“No, of course not, apart from you deciding to leave and me having no way to get hold of you,” Dean said.

Castiel said nothing, but his eyes got cartoonishly big and he walked around the table to kiss Dean.

“What,” Dean said against his mouth.

“I’m not going to leave this,” Castiel said.

“Ooo, I want extra of that,” Dean murmured. Castiel was now rather awkwardly trying to fit himself into Dean’s lap, like a Great Dane convinced it was a terrier. Dean spoke against his neck. “I was being a dick. Of course you can have a house key. I just worry about you, being so recently out of a really horrible cult. Y’know we could break this chair.”

Castiel stood. “I don’t want to break your furniture,” he said.

“Yeah,” Dean said jokingly. “If we’re going to start the day off with a bang, maybe that’s not the one we want.”

“No,” Castiel said. He went back to the kitchen and dished out oatmeal.

“Oatmeal?” Dean said in disbelief.

“It was in the cupboard,” Castiel said mildly.

“How? I don’t buy oatmeal!” Dean said in astonishment.

“Try it with butter and maple syrup, it’s really good,” Castiel promised.

“I don’t _have_ oatmeal!” Dean said.

Castiel reached into the cupboard and brought a box over to Dean. It had a yellow sticky-note on it, which read, in Sam’s strong, small handwriting, “I would love it if one morning a week, at least, you could eat something that actually l o w e r s your cholesterol.”

“This is a fuckin’ outrage,” Dean muttered. Castiel just looked at him as he put the box away. Dean had no idea how he did it, but Castiel could make him do things by _looking_ at him, so Dean ate his oatmeal and didn’t complain. It wasn’t as if Castiel was giving him a hate stare, but his glance combined encouragement and judgement in a way that made Dean want to shut up and comply.

Dean considered this as he powered through the oatmeal.

“That damned moose,” Dean muttered.

“Would you like seconds?” Castiel asked.

“Naw, I’m good,” Dean said. “So, what do you have on for today?”

“Working on my account of my life at Haven, encouraging my aunt to get an affidavit out of the midwife who attended my birth, and also encouraging her to swear an affidavit indicating my mother’s naturalization status, which together should allow me to get a birth certificate, and then after that a passport.”

“Feel like getting a haircut today?” Dean asked.

“What?” Castiel put his hand up to his hair and said in a mortified voice, “Is it really that bad by today’s standards?”

“God, no, Cas, relax,” Dean said, compressing his lips and then chuckling at Castiel’s expression. “You said you wanted to ‘get out of the house’. If I loan you my debit card, and give you a house key, you can go to the place down the block and get yourself a haircut the way you’d like it.”

Castiel looked dubious.

“Look,” Dean said, “You’re already fabulously sexy and incredibly handsome, but you’ve been getting haircuts with farm tools for two decades, so feel free to refresh your look.”

“I’ll think about it,” Castiel said. He ate a lot slower than Dean, that was for sure. “What about you, what do you have on for today?”

“If you don’t mind, after work, I’m going to head over to Sam and Eileen’s to hang out with Mary for a couple of minutes, but I’ll leave before they sit down for supper.”

“I would love to meet her.”

“Not a great conversationalist so far, but very expressive,” Dean said.

The door bell rang.

“The hell?” Dean said, turning to face the door. “We expecting anyone?”

“No,” Castiel said. His relaxed expression had tightened into a troubled squint. “It’s quarter to eight in the morning, it must be your brother Sam.”

“He’d let himself in with his key,” Dean disagreed. He rose and bore down on the door. He opened it to look down on a man in his forties with silky brown hair, a beard and a knowing smile, which he immediately extinguished in a vain attempt to look serious.

“Hey, cousin Jimmy!” the man said, spotting him behind Dean. “Thought there was no time like the present to talk to you about your amazing opportunity.” He dodged Dean and went straight to Castiel.

Castiel didn’t rise. “Gabe, perhaps you did, but I’m eating breakfast.” He took a sip of coffee to illustrate the point.

Gabe was a cheerful little steamroller. “A business breakfast, what could be better?”

“A proper greeting, maybe?” Castiel said drily. “I don’t go by Jimmy anymore, I’m Castiel.” Dean internally applauded the swift rejoinder. “You want to relieve me of money I haven’t received, and started your _repulsive_ sales job by calling me the nickname that made me pray to God for your quick death when I was twelve. I’m not pleased to see you. I was having a private breakfast - ”

“In _my_ fuckin’ _house_ , ‘scuse me,” Dean muttered.

“As Dean implies, this is not my house to let you into. It’s his. If he wants you to leave, you will leave.”

“I want you to leave,” Dean said, since it seemed logical.

“Castiel,” Gabe said, his entire manner changing. “I’m in big trouble, I owe some bad people a lot of money.”

“Are you a degenerate gambler, like Aunt Naomi said?”

“I’m cut to the quick by your unfounded assertions,” Gabe said.

“So, yeah,” Dean said.

Castiel sighed. “Sit down and have some coffee, Gabe; I can’t give you money I don’t have.”

Gabe made a face that was almost guilty. Dean supplied his own opinion. “That’s okay, he was planning on asking you to borrow the money to loan to him against your inheritance.”

Castiel looked at Dean, who shut up. Gabe wasn’t saying anything either, but his lips were compressed and he still looked sort of guilty.

Castiel rose and fetched another mug, asked his cousin how he took it, and put it in front of him. They sat down, Castiel frowning at Dean as he rolled his eyes.

“I’m in a lot of trouble,” Gabe said. He smelled like he’d been on a bus all night.

Castiel was calm and kind. “I can’t give you money. I can listen, that’s all.”

“I don’t even want to do that, and I have to get ready for to work,” Dean said. He left them at the table, against his better judgement, to shower. The feeling that Gabe would either kidnap Castiel, or convince him to leave voluntarily, settled over him like a cold fog that his hot shower did nothing to melt off.

There was a knock on the bedroom door after he’d finished changing, and Castiel’s voice, saying, “Dean?” softly.

“Yeah.”

“Can I speak to you privately?”

“Sure, Cas,” Dean said.

Cas closed the door behind him and eyed Dean. “You look unhappy to leave me with Gabe. I’m not going anywhere with him. Also,” and abruptly he was holding Dean, “With Gabe around,” he whispered in Dean’s ear, “I can’t give you a kiss goodbye before work.”

The cold fog blew off like a hurricane had come through. “Yeah,” Dean managed, before Castiel was kissing him with a hint of coffee and maple.

Cas was whispering in his ear again, no doubt believing that Gabe was doing his best to eavesdrop. “Did you need that as much as I did?”

Dean heard himself make a strange noise as air leaked past his vocal cords, and then Castiel chuckled softly.

“Have a good day at work,” Castiel said, and kissed him again.

“You neckin’ in there?” Gabe asked through the door. “You sound like bulldogs eating custard.”

Despite his irritation with Gabe, Dean lost it and burst out laughing. “Thanks!” he hollered through the door.To Castiel, he whispered, “Okay, I trust you. But as long as _he’s_ here, I’ll only give you the key, and not my bank card.”

“That’s a deal,” Castiel said, holding his hand out as he backed toward the door.

Dean pulled the key from the keychain. He’d known this guy approximately three minutes and he was giving him his key and he didn’t even feel foreboding about it. “Don’t get conned.”

“I’ll think of you being too mad to kiss me and that’ll stop me,” Castiel said.

“Yeah, that’ll keep you on the straight and narrow,” Dean said, and closed the door behind him.


	9. The boys at work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean finds he has a hard time explaining Castiel to his 'minions'.

At work, Dean toiled in the office, and ‘the big guy and the little guy’ ran the counter. Benny and Garth were the foundation of his success. Benny could calm the grumpiest customer, and Garth’s speed on the computer system was well known. The three men had an easy rapport, competence and cheerfulness which made work days seem to fly by.

Most work days flew by, anyway. Today, Dean was a wreck.

He didn’t have Gabe’s cell phone number, and apparently he’d left the apartment with Castiel, because no-one was answering the land-line.

“Everything okay with baby Mary?” Benny asked sympathetically, as Dean paced. He and Garth had been watching Dean stumble around ‘the goldfish bowl’, which is what they called Dean’s office, trying to work off his nerves.

“What? No, she’s fine.”

Benny shook his head and climbed the half dozen stairs up to Dean’s office. “Then what’s going on, bossman? You’re like a fly in a bottle up here!”

“It’s my roommate,” Dean admitted.

“What?” Benny said.

“You have a roommate? Guess you were so excited about Mary you forgot to mention it,” Benny said.

Dean realized he did not have his story straight. And he would never get the story straight as long as he was having a low-key panic attack about Cas disappearing out the door.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, “Kinda all happened at once.”

“So what’s with your roommate?”

“I can’t get hold of him, and I’m afraid his cousin kidnapped him,” Dean said.

“Kidnapped him,” Benny said calmly.

“Kidnapped him?” Garth said excitedly.

“It’s probably nothing. But he’s kinda naïve and I’m not sure –“

Dean looked at their faces.

“Yeah, I probably shouldn’t be talking about this. I’m sure everything will be fine.”

Benny looked like he wasn’t buying it. “So how did you meet this guy?”

“It was kind of a roadside rescue,” Dean said.

Garth made a weird squealing noise under his breath. Benny shot him a look, and continued to grill Dean.

“When was this?”

“The night Mary was born,” and Dean realized that was… two days before.

Long enough for him to be thinking about getting dinner again tonight. If the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach, Cas had him figured out to a ’T’.

“You got a roommate two days ago? I take it Sam knows all about him,” Benny said.

Both he and Garth were taken aback by Dean’s guilty expression. “It’s just until he can get established, he’s got some… issues. He’s just getting free from a cult,” Dean explained.

Garth started giggling at this point. “Dean, you know this all sounds like you’ve gone completely buggo,” he said in a friendly, calm voice, after he stifled his amusement.

“It’ll make more sense when you meet him,” Dean said. 

Then, as if Cas was appearing in front of him through the power of some magic spell, he and Gabepushed their way into the parts department. Dean rushed forward, and then stopped like he’d hit a wall.

Castiel had a faint, friendly smile. “Gabe wanted to see where you worked.” He waved one of Dean’s business cards, which he’d apparently found in the entranceway.

“Cas told me you were a big cheese. Are these your minions?” Gabe said. He really was an offensive little bastard. He had appropriated Dean’s nickname for Cas. The smirk appeared to have been tattooed on.

“Not cool!” Garth said. “I have two eyes and I don’t wear overalls, and I’m not yellow.”

“I’m nobody’s minion, me,” Benny said, in a rumble that was a warning.

“They’re my co-workers, and I’ll ask you to show them some respect,” Dean said irritably.

Gabe’s mischievous face grew even more sly. “More respect than you showed me, slobbering all over my cousin this morning. ‘Traumatized’ is pretty much the only possible way to characterize how I –“

Benny and Garth, god love them, were alternately looking perturbed and vastly entertained. There wasn’t a hole in the Earth big enough to swallow him, Dean thought tiredly.

Cas, flushed from embarrassment, cut into the spate of unwelcome words. “Gabe, you’re being rude. You’ve seen Dean’s workplace, it’s not imaginary, we can go now.”

“May I speak to you privately?” Dean said.

“Here it comes,” Gabe said. “They’re going to start macking on each other again.”

“We are not!” Dean said. He dragged Cas up the stairs into his office, glared at the three men looking up at them, and smashed down the blinds with an angry gesture.

Castiel looked flushed and awkward. “May I speak first?”

“Sure,” Dean said, waving a hand.

“Gabe says that if I don’t have sex with you as soon as possible you’ll lose interest and I’ll have to go live with him.”

Dean gaped, and recovered. “Gabe is a son of a bitch,” Dean said. “I’d wait ten years if I had to.”

“Well,” Castiel said primly, “That’s good to know, although I don’t like you saying bad things about Gabe’s mom. Is it okay if Gabe stays overnight and leaves in the morning?”

“God, no! but yes, if I get to slap him a few times on the way out the door,” Dean said in tones of pure gravel.

“He’s always been like this,” Castiel said. “He really can’t help it.”

“Being a complete goddamned dick? – yeah, he looks like he got his 10,000 hours in, and then some,” Dean said.

“I don’t understand that reference,” Castiel said. “Should I look it up?”

“No. You know I want to kiss you so bad I feel like my brain is imploding.”

“I’d prefer to wait until we don’t have an audience,” Castiel said.

“‘kay,” Dean said. “See you at home tonight then.”

“The worst part of today is that with Gabe being here I won’t be able to work on the journal you gave me,” Castiel said fretfully. “I feel like I have to keep at it until it’s done.”

“He’ll be gone tomorrow.”

“We hope.”

“Don’t talk like that. If he’s still here tomorrow I’ll probably punch his lights out,” Dean said.

“If he’s still here tomorrow, I’ll be reconsidering pacifism,” Castiel said.

They grinned at each other. Cas was just so fricking wholesome, even when he was making threats.

Dean flipped the blinds back open and Castiel rejoined his cousin.

Both incoming lines rang at once, and Benny said, “Floor show’s over!” and he and Garth answered their lines, “Parts, Garth/Benny speaking!” in perfect rhythm while grinning at each other.

Dean smiled, waved goodbye to Castiel and his butthead cousin, and proceeded to have an awesome rest of the day.

And if Benny and Garth teased the living crap out of him until the big hand swung around to the twelve and the little hand swung around to the five, it was marginally better than worrying about Cas when he was obviously fine, and not going to run off with his cousin, who didn’t really look like he had it in him to kidnap Castiel, even if he was the most annoying little asshole since … ever. Castiel was going home to cook him dinner. His little domestic fantasy would stay in play a day longer, and maybe after Gabe left Cas might feel relaxed enough to feel like necking.

It was temporary. Castiel was like an owl with a broken wing, an amazing experience to live with, but temporary. It stung, but it was okay for now, it was okay, for right now.

He had to say it to himself a couple of times.

“So Sam knows all about this guy,” Benny said.

“Oh no,” said Garth, accurately reading Dean’s face over lunch that day. Garth could be annoying sometimes, like having a mini-Sam at work. All concern and soft-eyed listening skills, _brrr_.

“He just had a kid,” Dean said through his meatloaf sandwich. Cas had packed him a lunch and he was loving it more than he could say, although it made him feel like he’d decided to give his life over to cosplaying a guy who had the world’s best househusband.

He swallowed, and it was great, he was intelligible now. _These guys deserve medals for working with me_ , Dean thought. “I didn’t want to make it all about me.”

“He’s good-looking across a broad spectrum of tastes,” Benny said.

“All of Dean’s, anyway,” Garth said. Dean shot him a look - that in the comic book universe would have punted him over Benny’s standup desk - and Benny chortled.

Dean returned to his point. “I haven’t told Sam, and given that he’s liable to leave at any moment if a childhood friend or relative can come through for him - who isn’t Gabe, I personally will stab Gabe in the neck and call it self defence, if he tries to convince Castiel to leave with him - I didn’t see much point. ‘Yeah, hey, Sam, there was this cool guy here for a couple of weeks, too bad you missed ‘im.”

Dean told the story of how he met Castiel. Garth gasped like a little kid during a spooky story at the library when Dean got to the ‘just before he went over the side into the water’ part. It was actually quite strange to tell a story where he was ‘the hero’; he almost felt ashamed of himself, as he thought that Castiel was the real hero, getting away from that horrible place.

“Until Sam met Eileen, you guys lived together and you told him everything,” Benny said. “Sam’s going to be pissed you clammed up.”

“What am I supposed to say?” Dean fussed.

“Hi, I have a roommate until he gets on with the rest of his life, hope you can meet him before he moves out?” Benny suggested.

“Yeah, you can leave out how he makes you sandwiches with the perfect amount of mustard and you look at him like a lovestruck teenager,” Garth said, in pretty much the same helpful tone of voice.

“Of course,” Benny said in that soft Cajun accent. “He’ll figure that part out for himself.”

“You guys are brutal,” Dean said.

“Not as brutal as Sam will be,” Benny said. He had homestyle ribs and Andrea’s killer cole slaw for lunch, the kind she made with busted up ramen noodles in it, but Dean didn’t envy him any more than he envied Garth’s vegan lentil stew. (Garth: ‘Cheap! nourishing! good for the planet!’ Benny: ‘Makes you fart like an old horse.’)

Dean told Sam over the phone and texted Eileen about his new roommate the next day.He didn’t want to, but if he got a roommate and didn’t tell Sam, there’d be hell to pay later. He dropped the information very casually, not like he was halfway to being in love with his gentle, weird, incredibly hot new friend.

Sam and Eileen, having other concerns, didn’t ask too many questions, but Sam had plenty after he dropped by Dean’s apartment for an Eileen-sanctioned break to grab a quick beer, and met Castiel for the first time. Castiel had been so nervous, and so afraid of causing Sam offence, that he did everything but call Sam, ‘sir’.

“Where did he come from, again?” Sam asked Dean when Castiel stepped away into the washroom.

“He was in a cult called Haven, which apparently has compounds all over the western US and started in Oregon.”

“Does he seem a little weird to you?”

“I think he seems a little weird to everyone,” Dean said. “I like him though, he’s good company.” He didn’t mention the kissing, or Sam for sure would lose what was left of his ‘baby-mooning’ mind.

“You said he was interested in Mary,” Sam said thoughtfully.Possibly even with a little side-eye in his voice.

“He’s eager to make her acquaintance,” Dean said agreeably. Dean thought to himself that his heart would likely explode if he saw Castiel holding Mary, but that was not a smart thing to say either, so he said, “He helped teach the kids at Haven,” Dean said. “I think he really enjoys them, including babies.” Castiel had mentioned it over breakfast, looking at Dean even more intently than normal, which was saying something.

“Is he looking for another place to stay?” Sam asked pointedly.

“What? No! I mean, he can’t, he’s got no ID and no credit history. He’s been off the grid for two decades, through no fault of his own.”

“Wow,” Sam said.

“You’re telling me,” Dean said. “He’s got twenty years of free porn to catch up on.” His reward was Sam screwing up his face in a classic judgemental bitch glare.

“For pity’s sake, Dean,” Sam said, disgusted, and dropped the subject, because Castiel returned, and so talked about Mary, which was fine by Dean, who was almost as interested in the changes in her digestive tract and sleeping patterns as Sam was. Then Sam had to describe, in perhaps just a tad too much detail, how he was enraptured by Eileen’s dive into motherhood and that was another five minutes and then Sam was gone, guilty about leaving Eileen alone so long. The subject of the roommate had been broached and dropped, Castiel had been inspected by Sam, and Dean relaxed a little.

Or he would, if that little weasel Gabe actually, you know, left.

Except that if he left there was always the chance Castiel would start sleeping on the couch again.

And Gabe had that figured out almost immediately.


	10. That louse, Gabe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They learn the extent of Gabe's problem.

Dean was very annoyed that, having super-secretly decided that Castiel with his so-blue eyes was the one, the One of song and fable, he instantly had to deal with one of his in-laws. It was outrageous, it was too fucking much, it was a manifestation of demonic evil.

“Why do you have to stay?”

“I’m enjoying the lack of responsibility, and the even more welcome absence of people trying to kill me,” Gabe said. “I don’t mind saying the food’s as good or better than anything I could get at a modest hotel, the money for which I do not currently have.”

“You showed me a thousand dollars in cash money,” Castiel said in an ominous, pissed-off voice. Dean enjoyed watching Castiel puff up like that, he grew six inches or something and there was definitely six inches of Dean that needed better accommodations than they were currently getting.

He tried not to drool but Gabe caught something on his face, obviously, because his smirk went from unusually vacant to being a little more tight, and less obvious. Dammit.

Gabe took a beat to respond, enjoying Dean’s discomfiture, and said, “I don’t have a functioning credit card.”

“That’s because you’re a degenerate gambler and I’m betting, ha ha, poor choice of words, that you maxed out your last two credit cards and now you’re hitting Castiel up for cash which you’ll gamble away before you apply it to your debts. And even if you applied it to your debts, you’d just run yourself up again. Declare bankruptcy.”

“What?”

“Bankruptcy.”

Dean shot a look at Castiel and he was looking at Dean as if he thought he was the cutest thing ever, like a puppy holding a basket in his mouth with a duckling and a chick and a kitten in it. His eyes were like tractor beams, he tried to look away and somehow could not make himself do it.

“You two are like goo,” Gabe observed. “You’re like a jar of pudding in the sun about to explode.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Dean said.

“You’re looking at each other as if you’ve decided to invent true love, since no one else has ever managed,” Gabe said with lisping sarcasm. “Living here is sure going to be interesting.”

“Gabe,” Dean said, “I think you and I are going to have to chat privately.”

He gestured toward his bedroom door, and Gabe gave a feral grin that flashed his moustache in a cartoon way. “Aw hell naw,” Gabe said. “You and I are going to talk in your car.”

“That bad,” Dean said.

“That private,” Gabe said, making a gesture as if to underline the words. Castiel looked outraged, of course, but said nothing.

Gabe admired the car for a minute; normally Dean was on that kind of sweet talk with a spoon, but not from this lying, cheating troublemaker. “Cut the crap. What are your debts?”

Something in Dean’s voice or manner cracked Gabe’s façade. “Sixty grand in credit card debt, a hundred grand in notes with bookies, and twenty grand in private debt.”

“All the chumps who’ve loaned money to you,” Dean diagnosed.

“I wouldn’t use those terms to describe my family, but I can’t pay them back first, so I can see why you’d call them chumps,” Gabe said frostily.

“You need rehab or whatever will work to get you away from gambling.”

“I need a way of making a living. I know you won’t punch me in your car, since you don’t want my blood on it, but there’s something else I have to tell you that you’re not going to like.”

“You don’t need to mention _that_ in advance, I ain’t liked one word out’ your fucking mouth so far,” Dean growled.

“Testy,” Gabe frowned. “I’ve already run through Castiel’s inheritance.”

There was a pause during which rage, roaring hot through his body like a hormonal firestorm, dimmed his vision. Dean took a deep breath, and then another. It was maddening, but that part was only money. Gabe might have brought worse trouble to his door.

“Gabe, is the **_mob_** after you?”

“Close enough that I took precautions. I ditched my phone from a bus window while headed north, changed buses and my appearance, paid cash, walked here from the bus stop. The contract is out in California and Nevada and New Mexico, but not in Colorado. So…”

“You think you’ve lost them.”

“I have.”

“Until they show up at Naomi’s door and punch her until she gives up my address,” Dean said. “If you got it, so can they, ya chucklehead.”

Gabe, unsurprisingly, had nothing to say to this. He did not look happy.

Dean could barely manage his own facial expression. “So after Castiel’s dad died you conned the lawyer handling the estate and took the money.”

Gabe considered Dean’s red face and appeared to tell the truth. “He said it seemed a shame that someone who’d been missing for twenty years should get the money when I was alive and needed it right now, and for two grand he handed it over.”

Dean’s mouth opened, and closed. He rubbed his knuckle over the back of his nose, and scowled. “I would have respected a con job more, but your reputation as total jerkwad is secure.”

“Every time I’ve been a jerkwad, there’s been someone around to help,” Gabe said. “Perhaps I need to hang around better people.”

“What? so’s we can get dragged through the shit along with you?” Dean asked in disbelief. “Maybe you can work on your _own_ shit and quit forcing innocent people with troubles of their own to pay for your stupid addiction.”

Gabe made puppy eyes. “I have to tell Castiel that I stole from him. I want you to be there when I tell him, for emotional support.”

Dean felt the rage build again. “Wait a minute, wait a fucking minute. If you already stole the money from him, and the mob’s on the way here because Naomi knows where you are…. why are you still here? Are you emptying my bank accounts?”

“No, Dean, I’m not,” Gabe said. “I thought if I could get him to sign it over I wouldn’t have to tell him I already took it and I’d stay out of trouble with Naomi.”

“You goddamned liar. That’s why you’re here, to find out who’s helping Castiel and empty their bank accounts.”

“I’ll admit I was hopeful but Jimmy wouldn’t share your passwords,” Gabe said, flashing a brief and pointed smile.

“He goes by Castiel now, and well, no, he wouldn’t share my fucking passwords since he actually understands wacky little concepts like, ‘honesty’ and ‘loyalty’,” Dean said viciously.

“And you know that in like, three days,” Gabe said resignedly.

Dean pressed his question. “So what the hell are you doing here, if you already cleaned him out?”

Gabe, for some reason, had run out of conversation.

“You’d better be gone in the morning,” Dean growled.

“Don’t worry, I will be.” Gabe seemed to think the conversation was over, and got out of the car.

“I’m gonna check your fucking luggage before you go,” Dean said.

“Thanks for the warning, I’ll warm up the prison wallet,” Gabe said.

“Goddamn it,” Dean said. He decided to scare Gabe a little. “Don’t think I won’t make Castiel check.”

Gabe, of course, did not give him the desired reaction. “As a test of his devotion to you that would be quite something. So, not interested yourself?” He sounded entertained.

“Absolutely the hardest of all hard fucking passes.”

“Glad we got that straight between us,” Gabe said and popped his tongue with a very rude noise.

“Got what straight between you,” Castiel said. You could bounce a basketball off that lower lip. It was so cute Dean wanted to yeet Gabe into the front walkway straight over the railing, forget the prick ever existed and just kiss Castiel senseless.

For one brief little eternity Castiel looked into his eyes and saw that desire. Gabe coughed and said, “For Chrissakes, guys, you have company.”

Castiel’s face hardened. “What happened? What were you talking about?”

“Gabe’s going to talk to you and I’m going to get myself a beer,” Dean said. “But I’ll be close by.”

Dean braced himself but all Castiel said, when he understood what Gabe was telling him, was, “Oh. So I’ll have to find another way to get money to go to college.”

“You don’t hate me.”

“You’re my cousin,” Castiel said. “You can hurt me, but I can’t hate you. I can decide I don’t want to see you any more, but that won’t mean I hate you.”

“Oh,” said Gabe.

“Anyway, I have news,” Castiel said. “While you were out, the phone rang, so I answered it, and it was Naomi. She told me that the refugee family she took in prevented an armed man from entering her home. They stole his gun and his car and his phone, shot holes in his shoes and made him walk home. He was looking for you and intends to shoot you dead, although Horacio and Hilario let him know that wasn’t a smart idea.”

“Holy shit,” Gabe and Dean said simultaneously.

“But they don’t know about here, right? That you’re here?” Dean said.

“Man, those are some bulked-up refugees Naomi took in! But the mob has ways of finding stuff out,” Gabe said bleakly. “Means I’ve probably not got long before they show up here.”

“Thanks for getting _us_ involved! Why are they trying to kill you?” Dean asked. “If you owe money they break bones to motivate you, they don’t _kill_ you.”

Gabe looked solemn. “Maybe it had something to do with the sweet, sweet time I made with someone’s er close relative,” Gabe said.

“Aw, sweet _Je_ sus,” Dean said tipping his head back as if he really was appealing to the Son of God. “So you’re dead, basically.” Cas was looking at Gabe with total pity and shaking his head.

“Nope, still alive,” Gabe said with mock sympathy. “I’m sure his sister’s not sorry, although I’m sure me being dead would work better for you.”

Castiel shot Dean a glance and said, “Dean doesn’t think that, at all. He merely thinks you shouldn’t be staying here,” Castiel said.

“You’re interrupting our alone time,” Dean said.

“No, I’m not,” Gabe said. “I’ll sit here and play Fallen Order on Xbox with the headphones on and you guys can dent the mattress however you like. I nearly got my aunt killed and I don’t want to think about that right now, so –“ he waved his hand negligently, “You go do whatever.”

Dean got him set up on the Xbox and said, with an exaggerated scowl, “Behave yourself, or you can find another place to sleep tonight.”


	11. That did not just happen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For someone with so little experience, Castiel sure knows how to ring Dean's chimes.

“C’mere, you,” he said to Castiel, who followed him into the bathroom and watched him close the door with a question in his eyes.

“You have something in mind?” Castiel said, sounding perturbed. They kept their voices quiet, assuming, once again, that Gabe was listening.

“Yeah, a close shave. You don’t have to, but I thought I’d scrub things down a little.”

“Oh,” Castiel said. “I think I’ll join you.”

The pair crowded around the sink and shaved side by side.

“Is this foreplay?” Dean murmured.

“Standing next to you in a small space? While shaving?” Castiel murmured back. Dean grinned and nodded. Castiel kept shooting him little looks, but he managed a superior job despite his distraction.

“Smooth as a baby’s,” Dean said when he was done.

Castiel, fussier, took longer. Dean stood behind him and fondled him from his belt line to his neck, no pinching, just stroking and gentle squeezing, nothing to make him jump. “You better not make me cut myself,” Castiel growled, which Dean felt in his dick, so he backed off.

When they cautiously opened the bathroom door, Gabe was not eavesdropping. They shared a look of surprise. Dean poked his head all the way through the door and Gabe was sitting with his back to them, headphones on, a Fallen Order start-up menu silently being manipulated across Dean’s massive television screen.

They snuck into the bedroom and Cas grabbed Dean and smashed his mouth into Dean’s and he let him do whatever he wanted, and it was amazing. It also changed, really fast. Within thirty seconds the lights were off, he was flat on his back, fully clothed, and Cas was grinding on him.

Dean pulled away and sat up. “Whoa, whoa, time out.”

Castiel did not sound himself. “What?” Dean had blackout curtains on his windows because he was part vampire, he admitted it. But he didn’t want to experience this without seeing his lover, that screamed **wrong** to him.

“The lights, uh, could we – have them back on?” Dean asked gently.

Castiel finally turned his face to look at him, he could feel his breath hot on his elbow. Castiel rolled onto his back, sighing. “I’m afraid I’ll come too fast.”

“I’m not. You may surprise me into saying something stupid, but I don’t intend to crowd your coming out process, which includes how you have sex with men.”

“But I want to – ” and here there was a very long pause, “top,” Castiel whispered.

There was a taut silence, which Dean tried and failed to fill with something, _any_ thing other than what his stupid monkey brain did to him next; he laughed in sheer relief.

“I knew it,” Castiel said, moving to get off the bed.

“You can fuck me,” Dean said. “I just didn’t expect that, and you sounded so apologetic - that’s what made me laugh. Leave the lights off. I didn’t mean to make you stop.” It seemed easier to talk to him like this, warm and gently teasing, in the dark.

Castiel lay back down, and Dean, wary of knocking into him, joined him. Dean shifted into the middle of his bed and encouraged Castiel to get back on top of him.

“Not today,” Castiel said. He buried his face in Dean’s neck and whispered, “I won’t fuck you today,” and ground into him in slow ovals of sexual torment, shifting his pelvis and his thighs as if Dean were exercise equipment. It was ludicrous. This guy couldn’t possibly be a virgin. Dean heard himself gasp when Castiel demonstrated that he could kiss Dean very effectively, speed up the grinding and gently scratch at the fabric over one nipple all at the same time.

The pressure built and built over a few minutes. Dean had just enough time to understand what was happening before his hips stammered out the semaphore of his orgasm.

Dean had just come in his pants.

Castiel figured it out, and crooned into his ear and gentled his hip action.

“My god,” Dean breathed when he had enough air for the job.

Castiel reluctantly slid to one side and held Dean while Dean fought the urge to apologize.

Castiel said, “I had to make you come, it was driving me insane.”He moved off Dean and the two of them lay, breathing fast and soft, foreheads touching.

“I just didn’t think it would all happen so quick,” Dean said. There was a hint of a laugh in there, he hoped. “You were the one who was worried. Do you have any fucking clue how hot you are?” Dean asked. It was a rhetorical question, but Castiel’s answer amazed him.

“As long as _you_ think that, I don’t care what anyone else thinks, including me.” Then, very sympathetically, Castiel said, “I’ll go get you a warm washcloth.”

He rose to complete his errand and Dean lay back and smiled so hard he could hear his cheeks squeak, and that made him laugh aloud, because he didn’t remember smiling like that in quite a while.

Castiel returned, shutting the door very quietly. His eyes were wide and worried. “Your brother’s here,” he whispered with a hint of panic. “He’s talking to Gabe.”

Dean shrugged. “Better him than me.”

Castiel shook his head and got that bossy tone that always made Dean feel very compliant. “Who knows what lies he’s telling Sam? He may be my relative but he won’t have a problem trying to cheat Sam in some way.”

“You have a point,” Dean said, and then grabbed Castiel and started fumbling at his belt. “Let me help,” Castiel said. “Are you going to get on your knees for me with our family outside?”

“I can be quiet if you can,” Dean said, and Castiel stifled a laugh when he felt around under the bed and pulled out knee pads. Hoarsely he replied, “What? I use ‘em when I’m scrubbing floors!”

Castiel already had his dick out. Dean licked the underside of Castiel’s stiffening cock, and gripped with one hand and cupped balls with the other, and within a few minutes the tentative hands on his head were heavily invested and pulling hard.

Castiel’s cock was juicy with pre-come and as firm and springy as anything Dean had ever had in his mouth. There was a series of stifled whimpers, which deepened into a shuddering groan, as Castiel came in six pulses.

Dean licked his lover clean while Castiel made soft, appreciative noises, and then Dean said, as he stood up, “I guess it’s time to face the music.”

Castiel’s nose wrinkled. “Perhaps you should wash your face first?” At Dean’s snort, he said, “Dean, you’re a barbarian.”

“Guilty,” Dean said. “I’m in my own damn house, I don’t know why I’m the one causing a problem. And you should clean up too, you won’t smell like a tea rose.”

“Dean!”

“I’m not wrong and you know it. I only have your best interests at heart. Even if they know we’ve been going at it we don’t have to almost literally rub their noses in it.”

“Of course I’ll join you in getting cleaned up. Perhaps you want to take a change of clothes?”

“Fuck that noise, I’ma Hugh Hefner the fuck outta this and wear a really nice bathrobe.” He pointed to the back of the door and peeled his clothes off before shouldered his way into the fluffy beige bathrobe hanging there.

Dean’s grand, ‘I just got laid!’, entrance into the living room was a total bust.

Gabe and Sam were gone.

Dean literally looked around as if there were someplace the two might hide, and nothing. He found his cellphone and texted his brother.

**Dean: Wtf dude where’s Gabe.**

There was no response for quite a while. The tension stretched until Castiel went to make himself tea and they sat at the kitchen table staring at each other with shared anxiety.

The phone finally pinged.

**Sam: I took him to a Gamblers Anonymous meeting. I’m sitting in the parking lot waiting for him.**

“Holy crap,” Dean said. “Sam’s doing it again. I don’t think he ever met anyone he didn’t want to help.” He told Castiel what was going on.

Very slowly, tears formed in Castiel’s eyes. They overflowed once, and Dean said, “Aw jeez, sweetheart, why are you sad?”

“Because I’m his family and I didn’t think of it.” After a second, “Sweetheart?” Castiel said faintly.

“I’m allowed to call a man whose dick I just sucked ‘sweetheart’, sweetheart,” Dean said, a hint of a frown on his face.

“No one’s ever … ever called me that. How did Sam think of it? How did he get him to go.”

“He went into law because he’s damned good at putting an argument together. Or maybe he put the eight inches in height and the yard in reach he’s got on that pipsqueak mofo to good use, and just hauled him to the meeting against his will.”

“I think if that was true we would have heard a lot of noise from the living room,” Castiel said. He sniffed.

“We were making a lot of noise ourselves, you know, panting, grunting, moaning,” Dean said suggestively.

“We still need to clean up,” Castiel said.

Dean dropped his voice to a sinful murmur. “Shall I run sir a bath? Or do you want to shower together?” Dean said, even more suggestively.

“Uh,” Castiel said. “Could we have a bath? I’ve never done that with another man.”

“An evening of firsts?” Dean said, waggling his eyebrows at Castiel.

“Oh, a lot of firsts,” Castiel said. “I want to devour you.”

“Anytime!” Dean replied, grinning. Watching his dick disappear below Castiel’s plump and plush upper lip was definitely something he could look forward to with avid anticipation.

“Are we flirting?”

“We’re past flirting. We’re promising each other a very sexy future, and we now have a track record. You made me come in my pants! Damn, dude, that’s me back in high school, squirming around under the railway bridge with Lee.”

“Lucky Lee,” Castiel breathed. They were kissing again. Dean pulled back first and said, “The bath,” and broke away to the bathroom, Castiel trailing him.

It was an awesome way to spend time with Castiel in between bouts of fucking, Dean thought. Dean started rubbing Castiel’s feet (they were sticking in his face, it seemed like the right thing to do) and Castiel completely relaxed like a wilting flower, it was so sweet, and then he started moaning gently, which was alternately extremely arousing and cute.

Dean grinned and occasionally laughed aloud as his strong hands and thumbs found new pleasure points on Castiel’s feet and the moans went up and down in tone and volume.

“Ever have your toes cracked?” Dean said.

“What?” Castiel said. Dean manipulated Castiel’s right big toe and there was a very satisfying ‘pop’, and Castiel jerked in startlement.

“That feels strange, but good,” he pronounced.

“Mmm, my brand,” Dean chuckled.

“Can I rub your feet?” Castiel asked, gesturing to Dean’s feet.

Dean looked speculative. “Do you do massage?”

“May I try, even if I don’t know how?” Castiel said humbly.

“Damn, Cas, when you ask like that, I’d have to be an ass to say no.” He shifted, and the warm bathwater shifted with him, and they exchanged positions.

“Oh,” Dean said. “That is, that’s really… that feels really good, Cas.”

“I try to pay attention,” Castiel said. “What you were doing felt wonderful.”

“I thought you were moaning too loud to pay much heed to my technique.”

“You have no idea how much I want to make you feel good,” Castiel said gravely. “You redeemed my life. I know that my redeemer liveth, and you are him.”

“What the hell,” Dean said flatly. “I ain’t Christ. I ain’t even Christ-like. In fact, I’d have to say that damned near every adult male I know – with the exception of my Dad – is closer to being Christ-like than me.”

“I don’t think of you as being like Christ at all,” Castiel said gravely. “Christ doesn’t tell me that I must have a huge pent-up demand for pornography.”

Dean started helplessly to laugh. “Well, I’m glad we got that straightened out,” Dean said.

“You taught me something very important, just in these past few days. Whether or not I go to heaven, the only time I have the ability to change things on this earth for myself and other people is while I’m alive, and it’s a brief and scary life, a lot of the time. As long as I know that I can move forward, and make friends, and put Haven in its proper place in my life, I’ll have the strength to keep helping others. You gave that to me. And look at you, how you give of yourself to other people! I’ve never heard in my life of a woman inviting her brother-in-law into her delivery room. If she feels that safe with you, what kind of man must you be? I’d guess generous and loving.”

“Shut up,” Dean said. “Her sister in law called her a pervert if you can believe it. The shit they said was gross. I’m sorry I did it now, it was - it was – “Castiel gave him a look, just one look, and Dean sniped back, “I didn’t say, ‘stop working on my feet’.” Castiel smiled a little and smoothed his thumbs gently over the soles of Dean’s feet.

He spoke to the feet. The bathtub was not huge and they were not small guys, so the feet were close. “You radiate sexiness. You make me want to stare at you all day, like a child, but I don’t feel like a child.” The thumbs increased in pressure.

“No, mmmm, nossir,” Dean said, sagging a little. It just felt so damned good. He thought about Cas manhandling him onto the bed - he was stronger than he looked - and his dick twitched a little.

Afterwards, they enjoyed drying each other off.

“You can’t get that grin off your face,” Dean said.

“I’m _touching_ another _man_ ,” Castiel said. “This is a very big deal for me.”

“Ah, so it’s not me, it’s the fact I’ve got a dick,” Dean said, and he realized he sounded a lot harsher than he meant to. The smile melted from Castiel’s face, and he turned away as if he’d been slapped.

“I didn’t mean to offend,” Castiel muttered.

“Naw, don’t be like that, I fucked up,” Dean said. “I should never try to police your own gayness for you,” he said. “I’m sorry,” Dean said, and hugged Castiel from behind, putting his head on his shoulder and enjoying the clean, damp warmth of his skin.

“I appreciate the apology,” Castiel said shakily.

“I’m an asshole,” Dean said.

“Don’t say that about yourself,” Castiel said. “I don’t think you are, anyway,” he added.

“You haven’t known me long enough,” Dean said.

“I’ve known you long enough to know how kind you are,” Castiel said. Dean thought it made sense to start kissing him again, and they were still necking, behind Dean’s bedroom door so as not to freak out Sam, when they came back. They both agreed that freaking Gabe out was pretty near impossible, so they didn’t worry about him.


	12. A surprising proposal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Goaded by Gabe, Dean proposes to Castiel.

Gabe looked grey and subdued when Sam returned him. Sam flicked his eyes over their damp hair and obviously post-clean-up state but chose not to say anything, although his hazel gaze pierced Dean to the core and Dean _knew_ that look promised a ‘serious conversation about Castiel’, later. Castiel asked Gabe if he wanted to talk about Gamblers Anonymous, and Gabe said no, and then he looked at Dean and said, with a touch of his normal flair, “Well, I ain’t an alcoholic! Would it be too much to ask for a drink?”

The four of them, talking awkwardly at first, slowly polished off the rest of the Crown Royal. Sam had a single shot, since he was driving. He finished his drink, said, “I’ll call you later, Dean,” in a very serious voice, and departed.

As soon as he was clear of the door, Dean turned to Gabe and said, “Okay, what the hell did you say to Sam?”

For a moment Gabe looked blank. He shot a look at Castiel and said to Dean, “I said it looked like you two were ‘involved’ and I’d punch your lights out if you hurt my cousin.”

“Like to see you try,” Dean scoffed.

“I’m a brown belt in Tae Kwon-Do,” Gabe said, one puckish eyebrow raised. “Unless you know how to fight once you’re on the ground, you won’t last long.”

“Please don’t talk like this,” Castiel begged. “Stop being childish and for my sake attempt to be civil.”

“For your sake?” Gabe said, as if each word hurt his mouth. “This asshole’s a player if I ever saw one, and once he’s got what he wants from you, you’ll never see him again.”

Dean bleakly realized that in his life, he’d never met anyone who irritated him half as much as Gabe.

He took a breath and made the mistake of saying what was in his heart, “You asshole! I wanna marry Cas!”

Castiel made a little noise and fainted, clunk, on the couch.

“Way ta go, ya jerk,” Gabe said, and while Dean rushed off for some water, he shook Castiel gently and patted his hands.

“Were you serious?” Gabe asked quietly.

“I’m serious now, although having in-laws like you might make me think twice if Cas wasn’t so awesome.”

Castiel came to, and after struggling to speak for a moment, took the water from Dean and said, “You shouldn’t have said that.” He drank a few sips and set it down.

Dean looked at him, and thought about his dad’s gold ring, with a big square tourmaline set in it.

“Oh, yes I should,” Dean said. “Wait right here,” and he found his hands shaking as he got the ring out of the keepsake box in the top of his dresser.

He came out into the living room and sat on the floor and offered Castiel the ring. “Until you pick out a nicer one,” Dean said. “I have a chain if you don’t want to wear it.”

“Whatever you do, don’t say yes,” Gabe said, his face dark with concern for Castiel and astonishment with Dean’s actions.

“This is a conversation we’re going to have in private later,” Castiel said, and then put Dean’s heart back into his body by taking the ring and putting it on a finger on his right hand.

“So you know I’m serious,” Dean said.

“So you know I’m considering it,” Castiel said.

They smiled at each other, soft, slow smiles.

Gabe said, “Please, no, my eyes.”

They didn’t respond, merely linking hands and walking toward the bedroom.

Gabe gave up. “I wanna be a groomsman!” he yelled.

Castiel paused. He returned to the living room and sat on the couch next to Gabe. “You do?” he asked gently.

Dean appeared next to him, scowling. “Keep going to meetings and sure, you can try to put hot sauce in my champagne all you want.”

Gabe put his headphones on. He did not look like he wanted to hear what happened next.


	13. And a coda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy endings all around.

Gabe didn’t leave for two months. He stuck to the program and found a job and moved out. Gabe testified against the loan sharks, even after death threats. He quit gambling, and opened a candy store with two sets of counters, one for kids and one for adults, and the store won design awards, and he paid back all his loans within five years. Franchisees lined up to get a piece of the “ ** _Love Candy_** ” action. Sam helped him get set up.

Mary grew and thrived, and was in and out of her Unca Dean and Unca Cas’s apartment. She especially loved when Cousin Gabe came to visit; Eileen and Sam didn’t give her candy, but Gabe was very sneaky about getting her some.

Gabe noticed, when he sneaked a peek at Castiel’s journal, at the end of his stay with Castiel and Dean, that Castiel had literary talent, so he got Castiel’s manuscript typed up, found an agent, a smooth and wily shark named Crowley, and “No Haven” went to number eight on the NYT Bestseller List and got turned into a popular Netflix ‘based on a true story’ movie.

Dean’s comment on the whole bizarre situation was, “I still think Gabe’s an asshole, but he’s our asshole.” Castiel had to rebuke him for not playing nice during interviews, since people always wanted to meet ‘the man who _really_ saved Castiel’ and Dean got bored easily. He wasn’t a hero; he was a lucky stiff. That was his story and he stuck to it.

The Servant, whose real name was Alastair Beck, tried to sue Castiel and lost his temper so badly during a deposition that he ended up being tranquillized and sent to the psychiatric ward of a local hospital.

Brother Jerome had accompanied him, and, sensing his moment to bail would never look so good, abandoned his boss and fled from Haven with about half a million dollars in cash. “He talked about moving to Thailand,” Castiel said.

Alastair had a heart attack after he was transferred to jail on various charges, including fraud and kidnapping, and died without a will, so the lawyers had a field day and the feds had to put together a task force to deal with the tangle of land and buildings he’d owned so as to disburse funds to his victims.

Castiel spent a lot of time volunteering with the other strays from Haven, getting them set up in their own lives now that the Servant wasn’t forcing them to work like brutes.

Sam and Eileen insisted on at least a year long engagement, expecting the happy couple to complain, and Castiel said, “If you think it best,” and Dean said, “Whatever Cas wants, as long as the answer’s still yes,” and Sam and Eileen looked at each other with bemusement, because it was still very strange to both of them that no matter what anybody said or did, it was quiet, courteous, sweet-natured Cas who wore the pants in the family, and Dean behaved as directed by Cas. Dean almost stopped drinking and swearing, but not quite.

They sure looked good in their tuxes, though. Sam’s favourite wedding picture was not actually of the wedding; he got a candid photo of Dean, working on centrepieces under Castiel’s calm direction about a week before the wedding, his tongue sticking out in rapt concentration. Sam eventually took it to work; Dean complained about it every time he visited.

Cas stayed home, and wrote, and fiercely advocated for the two pre-teen boys they adopted, except when he was on tour promoting a new book, and Dean kept working at the dealership, while having serial nightmares about Jace and Tucker learning to drive in Baby and crumpling the fenders.

Sam and Eileen had two more kids, both rambunctious boys, Jack and Baz.

And they all lived noisily and happily for years and years.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Check out my other destiel fics while you're here. Comments, kudos, typo fixes, all welcome here.


End file.
